Swing Batter
by Ellie 5192
Summary: Written as a prompt-fic for feymcdonnell. "Andy takes Sharon to a baseball game on a date". Set some time after The Wedding (you know the one). One-shot, pure fluff.


_[EDIT] Updated and improved thanks to a quick and wonderful beta from NHas- much thanks for your far superior American sport knowledge; I'm always open to good advice.  
Written for a prompt from feymcdonnell: "Sharon/Andy: Andy takes Sharon to a baseball game on a date." Just a fluffy little one-shot, set some time just after The Wedding (you know the one), assuming that's an appropriate time for them to tentatively explore their chemistry. I shall preface this with 'I know very little about baseball so there is as little baseball in this as I could possibly write'. I'm an Aussie Rules girl; my baseball knowledge comes from watching A League of Their Own. _

**_Swing Batter. _**

"I can't believe I got suckered into this" she says, minding her step as they make their way down to their seats. She's holding a tray of hotdogs as Andy carries the drinks in front of her. The seventh inning stretch is almost over and so far they've enjoyed their day immensely.

"Well I still appreciate you coming- when Provenza pulled out I thought I was gonna have to waste a Saturday and sacrifice perfectly good tickets"

"Oh, the accompanying I don't mind. The company isn't bad either"

They grin at each other at that, shuffling into their seats again and settling the food around them, placing the drinks by their feat very carefully.

"I just can't believe you convinced me that eating one of these monstrosities would be a good idea"

He laughs at her; at the face she pulls as she looks at the hotdogs on her lap that are piled high with onion and cheese, and ketchup and mustard, and some kind of relish he doesn't know the name of and doesn't particularly care to find out. One of them has a smooshed up veggie patty on it, which he eagerly takes off the paper tray, and he can feel her gaze burning into his cheek as he takes a shamelessly big bite out of the end of it. The broken crowds are slowly filtering back in around them.

He turns to her and grins, his mouth so full that part of the bun gets pushed out the corner of his teeth. Her look changes from mild horror to amusement in the blink of an eye, and she chuckles at him. She reaches her thumb out and wipes a bit of mustard from the corner of his mouth, licking it clean, and then turns back to her own food. He tries not to look startled.

"I just want you to know, that if I get gastro you're nursing me back to health" she says.

"I told you to get the veggie option"

His words come out garbled and barely understandable, but she gives him a look anyway. "Go all or go home, I believe is what you said"

He just shrugs and takes another bite. She shrugs too, and then with a resigned sigh (there goes her winning streak on her latest health kick) she picks up the bun and takes a whopping big bite out of the end of it. He watches from the corner of his eye, impressed to see she doesn't splatter one drop of sauce anywhere- it's a skill to be admired with the size of these hotdogs.

"Oh my god" she mumbles around her mouthful, tilting her head back to keep her food in her mouth. She chews a few times, and he laughs at her efforts, and then once her mouth is a little less full she nods. "This was totally worth it"

He can't help himself; he barks out his laughter, watching her thoroughly enjoy the disguising excuse for food she's hoeing in to.

"I told you. You doubt me?"

She grins at him, and he finds her totally adorable. She's wearing a Mets jersey and a well-worn Yankees cap over a messy ponytail- a holdover from her family's history on the east coast, apparently- though neither team are playing today, which just makes the ensemble that much sweeter. He'd love to know the story behind that particular combo. He says so, gesturing with his hotdog between her head and her body. She smiles, and looks down at her jersey, then back at him with a sardonic grin, finishing her mouthful.

"My mother and father could agree on many things, but never sports teams apparently"

He laughs at her- a real belly laugh- mostly because her tone suggests she finds the whole thing ridiculous. Honestly he finds it rather cute, that even after all these years and a coastal move she managed to rummage her old gear from the back of the wardrobe. He wonders if maybe she has a box of old things that she just can't get rid of but doesn't ever use. He'd love to know what else is in there.

"We kids were never allowed to pledge allegiance to one or the other" she continues. "Knicks, Nets- Rangers, Islanders- Jets, Giants. I think I have one item of clothing for every team ever based in New York, just in case"

He laughs again, shaking his head.

"What about you?" she asks, nodding at his cap and taking another bite of her hotdog. She still doesn't spill any, and how she does that he'll never know.

"Me? Nah, family tradition. I think my father was there for the first ever official Brooklyn Dodgers pitch, and there was no choice for any of us after that"

She smiles at him and her eyes widen in understanding. They have a shared history of being born and raised in New York. It comes with its own weigh- its own meaning that sits under the skin, and a sensibility that is hard to shake no matter how much of her life has been on the west coast. She can't deny that it's one of the things that draws her in- this little piece of her homeland wrapped up in his Harlem accent with the hint of his Italian mother underneath. It reminds her of the subway, and of Central Park. It feels solid at her back.

They turn back to the game as it winds up again, finishing the last of their lunch in relative silence. He can't deny that he spends almost as much time watching her as the players. She cheers for both teams equally, though she had pledged her allegiance to the Dodgers for his sake. But really he thinks she doesn't actually care, and is more concerned with watching how far the guys can hit the ball, and how fast they can run. He likes that he can share this without having to spend the whole time explaining the rules. He likes that despite what he thought of her- of what everyone thinks of her- she's genuinely enjoying herself here, with him, in her worn out jersey with her disgustingly gross hotdog and the pint of cola that came with it.

This is their third proper date (fourth, if he counts the wedding, which he doesn't because she had made it clear she was there as his friend, and he was not really in a state to flirt, or do much of anything beyond avoid the bar and his ex-wife).

For their first date they didn't do anything very much 'datey'. Rusty was at a friend's place, and she mentioned not knowing what to do with herself home alone for the evening, so he'd invited her over for a home-cooked meal and a movie. Low-key, sitting on the couch, friends really, except it had felt too intimate for just friendship. He'd kissed her cheek as she left for the evening, and she'd seemed surprised but not displeased. Really he just wanted to tell her in the most subtle way possible just what he thought of the evening. She'd seemed receptive.

The second date- because they acknowledged this time that it was a real date when he outright asked her- he did the whole big deal. A stroll along the beach, a nice restaurant, sharing coffee late into the evening, another kiss on the cheek when he dropped her home. She blushed a little and told him she had a good time, and when she lingered just a moment in her doorway, he'd taken that as a personal victory.

And so here they sit, their third proper date, and he thinks it's going pretty well so far.

She cheers again, fists half raised and a smile on her face. He's never seen her so animated. She looks so vibrant, and alive, and he can't believe this is the same woman who sits stoically at work and tempers her voice to address the crowd.

"You're staring" she says. He shakes his head and focusses his eyes, and realises he must have been looking for a while.

"Sorry. Off with the fairies"

"Something on you mind?" she asks.

"Nothing really. Just enjoying the day"

She smiles at him, and at his gentle implication. She nods too, just a little bit. "It's a good day" she says, implying something herself that he tries not to get excited about.

They turn back to the game, and he tries not to notice the way she shuffles on her seat, her hip just that little bit closer, her side pressing into his.

When he takes her home that night- because they only brought his car and it's the gentlemanly thing to do- he walks her up to her door, and she smiles. She'd taken the cap off in the car and let her hair out of the ponytail, giving it a shake. There's still the trace of a kink in it from the band, and there's something about seeing her not completely done up that seems rather intimate.

She stops by her door, keys in hand, looking like she has no intension of actually using them any time soon. "I had a wonderful time today" she says suddenly, spinning to face him. She looks earnest and nervous all in one, and he thinks that it's a bit much to be standing here, the end of date three and no idea where this is heading.

"So did I. I'm glad you came"

His voice is soft, quiet in her deserted hallway, and she leans just fractionally closer, swaying towards him even though theoretically she should be taking that last step in the other direction and opening her door.

"I'm glad you invited me" she counters. She's wearing that knowing little smirk now, and he thinks she might just be flirting with him. He smirks right back and steps closer to her. They're practically touching now, bodies almost flush and sharing the same breathing space.

"Sharon" he says, half a question.

"Hmm?"

"Since this was technically our third date-"

And she huffs out a laugh, composing herself a moment later. He sneaks a finger under her chin and tilts it up, forcing her to look him in the eye. Maybe this is too much as well- maybe this is crossing a boundary somewhere, being this close and feeling like he can see her soul. Her eyes, when not obscured by her glasses, are the most expressive thing about her.

"- I'd really like to kiss you"

He'd never normally ask; he'd turn on the charm and lean in and rely on his boyish grin to not let him down. But this- whatever this may or may not turn out to be- demands more respect than that; she deserves more. He is surprised to find he's willing to go the extra mile.

"Then what's stopping you?" she whispers, her eyes flitting to his lips and back to his eyes, a mixture of longing and vulnerability hiding in their corners and colouring her tone.

"Nothing" he says, and her eyes slip closed.

His lips are softer than she expects them to be. He's as good a kisser as she imagined. He still tastes a little like the mint ice cream they had on the way home. She can't stop herself humming in the back of her throat, just a little sound of contentment.

The hand not holding her cap and keys snakes up to his neck, holding him there, and the hand that had tilted her chin threads into her hair.

As far as first kisses go, it's pretty damn lovely.

She is surprised when he pulls away a moment later, his fingertip caressing behind her ear just so. Her pulse is racing, not because she's nervous, but because it's been so long since she's done this whole dating thing that she doesn't know what to do next. Also, he kind of took her breath away a little bit.

They stand there, half holding each other, for just a few moments and soak in the reality of everything. And then he surprises her and pulls back, putting just enough distance between them for it to be considered propriety. Their hands drop, but he immediately holds hers and brings it up to his lips, kissing her knuckles as he holds her gaze.

"Would you like to come in for coffee?" she asks.

They both know Rusty is inside, because he was dropped off and texted her to let her know he was home safe about an hour ago. She can hear the faint sounds of his music coming from his room. If Andy came inside it really would be coffee, and maybe a few more kisses in her kitchen while she made them, and maybe some snuggling on the couch. But no more than that. She's not sure where she'd find the willpower to stop, but he thankfully answers that for her.

"Maybe next time" he answers with a little smile. It's sweet in a way she doesn't expect. His refusal, given all she knows about his dating habits, is equally surprising. She would be worried he was bowing out gracefully if it weren't for the look in his eye and the fact he holds her hand up and gives it another kiss.

"I'll hold you to that" she says, grinning at him.

"This is where I say goodnight" he says.

She nods, agreeing with him reluctantly, before spinning and stepping to her door. She only lets go of his hand when she absolutely has to. She opens the door and cracks it, holding with her foot so it doesn't close itself again, and then she turns back to him. He closes the distance between them, and she snakes her hand around his neck and pulls him into another brief kiss. This one is less heady and more affirming that this is only going to continue after tonight. One kiss could be mistaken for folly; two is a promise. It's deliberate. She smiles against his lips and pulls away before she forcibly drags him inside. He smiles too, and then graciously steps back again.

"Goodnight, Andy" she says quietly.

"Goodnight Sharon"

"Call tomorrow?" she asks, a little bit shy. Tomorrow is Sunday. Tomorrow is lazing in bed, hoping a murder doesn't turn up, and reading the paper, and wearing jeans and asking Rusty about his day. Tomorrow has nothing to do with work. Tomorrow is also a promise.

"So long as it's not due to a homicide, I will absolutely call you tomorrow"

She laughs at him, and nods once, her eyes shining. He bows his head, and then takes a step towards the exit, looking at her one more time before he walks away. Half way down the hall he turns, and she's still standing at the open door watching him go.

"You know" he calls. She nods to say she's listening. "You really should pick a team. Just for you, you know. Just a thought"

She grins after him. "Maybe I'll go for the Dodgers" she says with a cheeky grin.

"Wouldn't that be something" he says.

And then he's gone, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. She closes the door, and potters around the kitchen, and changes into her pyjamas, and brushes her hair and teeth. Then, just for curiosity's sake, she brings up the Dodgers online store and checks out some of their stuff. Surely, with all the other teams she's got buried in her bottom draw, she can afford to add one more. She smirks to herself, closes her computer and goes to bed.

If he calls tomorrow, she thinks, then maybe I'll get a cap.

_On their first anniversary he presents her two tickets to a Dodgers game and a neatly folded Dodgers jacket in a box. She laughs, and then kisses him soundly, and then offers to buy them hotdogs and cola for lunch, and he only grins and fondly tugs her Dodgers cap onto her head. _

_"Deal. Now come on Dottie Hinson, we're gonna be late"_

_She takes his hand and walks them to the car, a grin plastered on her face. He willingly follows. She can't know how proud he is to see her decked out in his favourite blue and white. _


End file.
